


Then And Now

by ItsTheClimb



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Emotional Winter Soldier Porn, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, POV Multiple, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, it doesn't matter how old steve and bucky get, the tragedy of bucky barnes, they'll always be two boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 23:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsTheClimb/pseuds/ItsTheClimb
Summary: A sweet and porny fic exploring the changing relationship between Steve and Bucky through time.First chapter is from Steve's POV in the 1940s, the second chapter is from Bucky's POV in the present day.





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [crow-sizna](https://www.crow-sizna.tumblr.com) for letting me use her incredible art of Bucky as jumping-off point for this fic. 
> 
> Someday I'll get more creative about my story titles. 
> 
> This started off as a drabble that then gained a second porny chapter, lol. I'm a little nervous about how it is, because it's the first time I've written anything like this. So comments and feedback are very much desired and appreciated! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV in the 1940s

Both he and Bucky were both considered men, but honestly only Bucky looked like it, what with his muscles and ever present shadow of a beard no matter how often he shaved. Steve loved it. He loved this man who to everyone else was strong and powerful. He loved that those who didn't shy away from the idea of them in a homosexual relationship quietly assumed that he was Bucky's boy, because Bucky was so big and strong, while he was slight and delicate. 

He loved that he was the only one who knew what his man looked like after being fucked, and fucked good. 

Because as Bucky would privately joke, Steve was slight everywhere BUT between his legs, and there God had been generous. Over generous even, he would complain as he tried to move around without a hitch the next day. 

But he not-so-secretly loved feeling so pried open by Steve's cock. He loved the languorous feeling that soaked through him afterwards. After his most intimate muscles had been stretched so far and finally gave in, spreading the pliability to all the muscles of his body. 

Steve loved the sex, of course, but he loved seeing Bucky in the aftermath more. For once, the weight of carrying both of them off of his shoulders as he lounged on the bed, or on the floor, or where ever the mood had taken them, with the most peaceful look of bliss on his face. The smoke from the cigarette delicately balanced between his teeth slowly curling into the air around him made for a beautiful contrast to the shadow of his jaw. 

Steve couldn't help but draw him. Bucky was always beautiful, but like this he was nearly other-worldly.


	2. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's POV in present day

The soldier has only been DONE TO in his whole memory. He's not in a place where he can accept being DONE TO by anyone, not even THE MAN ON THE BRIDGE. 

But the soldier does remember this, with this man. He remembers in fragments, less than the breath of a dream, but it's enough. He doesn't want to DO TO this man what was DONE TO him. He moves so cautiously, like it's the first time he's ever done this. And in a way, it is. He has no real memory of soft, of sweet, of careful. He wants to make those memories with this man. 

It takes him more than an hour to get to Steve's cock. He started up with his hair, smelling and petting it so gently. Spent a small eternity staring into those blue eyes. In them he sees the reflection of who he used to be so clearly that it makes him feel like he could reach out and grab his past out of them. 

He lays little kitten kisses on the man's soft pink lips, never breeching his mouth and paying no attention to the deep whines inside THE MAN ON THE BRIDGE'S throat. He's not in pain (the soldier knows what pain sounds like in all it's forms) and the soldier doesn't want to stop. It's the most human he's felt since before he can remember, but if he had to guess, he would date it back to when he lived with this man in a time before THE KILLING. 

He worships his neck, measuring the man's pulse with his eyes and tongue, amazed that it can beat so steadily with a killer on his neck. 

He feels the muscles in his arms and chest and for once doesn't imagine how he will defend himself against such strength. 

He spends another eternity on the man's nipples, trying in vain to see if they taste different from the skin around them. And like any important data gathered in the field, he feels the need to confirm his conclusions again and again. 

This is where the man starts to squirm, and his heavy hitching breaths becoming open sobs. The soldier...remembers this, suddenly. How sensitive his Stevie always was on his chest and mentally adds it to the running list of evidence that this is the same man. (He has evidence both for and against, almost in equal measure. But he surprises himself by hoping that it's true. He is surprised both at the wish [he put Stevie to rest a long time ago] and at himself for having such a wish. If his handlers could see him now.) 

He lingers over the man's belly button for ages before finally making it to his cock. He lips at it more than anything, never taking it inside his mouth. He has had this DONE TO him too many times to willingly take it again, but something about the big, warm, twitching and dripping organ makes it impossible for him to pass by it completely. 

The man is openly keening now, with tears on his face. Again, the soldier doesn't see pain so he ignores it. 

He makes his way down the man's legs next, carefully investigating every centimeter of skin, culminating in delicately tasting a toe. The data here is inconclusive, but it does make the man spread his legs even farther, drawing the soldier's eyes to the orifice between them. 

The man's hole is tight and pink, and even with the man's observed healing factor, the soldier is sure he's never been DONE TO here. The soldier wonders if his had ever looked like this. 

Carefully, more carefully than he's even sure he knows how to, he begins to DO TO the man to prepare him. 

The soldier shakes his head to flick the thought away. No. He could never DO TO this man. THE MAN ON THE BRIDGE must never be DONE TO, so he gentles his fingers further, and adds his tongue to soften the preparation even more. 

The man is heaving now, great sobs, and he moves a hand to cover his mouth, while he lays his other arm over his eyes. The soldier does not understand the behavior, but has not been told to stop so continues his work. 

After a great deal of time has passed, the soldier deems the man to finally be ready. He shuffles up to enter, then pauses. Some deep instinct is telling him that something is missing. After a moment of contemplation, he realizes he wants to see himself, the self he longs to be, in the man's eyes. 

He reaches up and pulls the man's hands away from his face, revealing puffy red lips and swollen eyes. The soldier thinks the man has never looked more beautiful. He starts by pinning down the man's wrists, then pauses. Pinning him down feels too close to DOING TO him. But the man will without question try to hide his face again if his hands are free. 

After floundering for a moment (why are choices so hard) the soldier remembers how the man seems to enjoy holding the soldier's hand. Experimentally, he slides his hands into the man's, and for good measure, laces their fingers together while meeting the man's eyes to see if this is what he would have done. 

The man looks helpless, an unknown emotion heavy on his face as his fingers clench down almost frantically onto the soldier's. 

Pleased, the soldier maintains eye contact as he pushes easily into the man. And as he settles deep into the man's welcoming body, he thinks it's the furthest from DONE TO he's ever been. 

They rock together for most of the night, the soldier never breaking eye contact and the man never loosening his grip on the soldier's fingers. 

The man comes between their bellies, four, five times before the soldier finally comes inside of him. And as they lay tangled afterwards, the soldier still buried deep inside without either of them expressing any desire to move, the soldier thinks he remembers the emotion on the man's face. He thinks it may be on his too.


End file.
